


So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), part 5

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Crossover, Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-12
Updated: 2008-03-12
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: When Alex Krycek met Dean Winchester, it was not luck. He deserved it.





	So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), part 5

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), part 5

## So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), part 5

### by Griva

##### [Story Headers]

  


Title: So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), ch. 5 

Fandom: the X Files/ Supernatural  
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Alex Krycek  
POV: Krycek's  
Status: WIP  
Rating: NC-17  
Beta: by Courtney. THANK YOU! 

* * *

Chapter 5 

*0.10 am   
Sunday* 

Alex did not plan to fuck around in the same place where he'd been sleeping and keeping his small arsenal. He'd investigated the area earlier, settling on a moderately priced, yet suitable hotel ten minutes' drive from Charity. Now, he headed for The Clover Motel, a clean and out of the way spot that looked perfect for an hour's worth of semi-legal fun. 

For Alex, human nature was ridiculously acquiescent and utterly predictable when it came to the choice between money and asking questions. It was amazing how much silence a really big tip could buy. He didn't have to cover up a felony this time, yet a twenty dollar tip got him keys to a big double off the road side, with two extra towels and check out time 10 a.m. 

When back to the parking lot, Alex opened the front passenger door, prodded Dean in the shoulder. The young man must have dozed off while Alex went to settle the booking formalities, he looked up at Alex with sleepy eyes. 

The room was painted beige and blue, no surrealistic birds or Daliesque designs on the walls that, when encountered, gave Alex an unpleasant feeling he was locked up in someone else's bad dream. The bathroom smelled strongly of room deodorizer which they seemed to have sprayed all too liberally. 

Dean looked around the room, his dirty face unreadable, then ran his hand through his mudsplattered hair. Alex put the towels on the table, peeked into the shower, checked into the cabinet on the wall. There was the standard selection of toiletries, disposable shaving kit, and paper tissues. Hand lotion was something tried and true; he just hoped he could put up with the lavender mint odor as he grabbed the tube and tucked it in his pocket. 

"You wash first," Alex took five steps back into the bedroom, motioning Dean towards the shower stall. 

The chair creaked as Dean sat down, unlacing his boots. Alex took his coat off carefully, frowning at the dirty stains, before throwing it on the other chair near the uneven table. 

"And shave too," Alex added. 

A shocked look crossed the younger man's face and Alex rolled his eyes, wickedly amused, catching Dean's thought, hurrying to add: "Not a bad idea, but wrong. Too time-consuming." Then Alex pointed at Dean's face, "You'll scrape my skin off if you don't." This came out sounding almost good-natured. From the corner of his eye he observed Dean pulling off his mudsplattered jacket and tossing it in the direction of the bathroom entrance. Alex no longer felt baited by such small demonstrations of defiance. He nudged two beds together and took off the dark blue covers. 

When Alex turned his attention to Dean again, he was looking back at him, stiff with awareness, 

"What is that?" 

"What? Did my eyes just turn yellow?" Alex noticed how Dean's face changed instantly at his remark. The guy had a serious issue with yellow eyes. Maybe they had a name for the phobia. 

"No. You're wearing a gun!" Dean pointed his finger at Alex's side. He looked like someone had let a cobra loose in the room. Alex felt his cock twitch. 

"Yes." 

"It's been there all the time?" Dean's question sounded almost like an accusation. 

"Well, yes." 

Dean considered it for a moment. Alex tried not to grin as his facial expression changed from resentful to uneasy as realization dawned. Alex could have used the gun on him at the first opportunity and the events might have taken an altogether grim turn. Then Dean strained his neck to make out what kind of gun was in the holster. It was hard to tell, of course, but he wanted to know. 

"It looks like a good gun," he offered cautiously. 

"Yes, hawkeye. It's a Beretta 9000S. 10 rounds in 40 S&W. Comfortable and practical." 

"It's a ...gun for law enforcement and personal defense." 

Alex kept his poker face on, but quirked his brow, as if asking "So what? Back out of the deal then?" 

"You said you worked for the state? You are so "not" law enforcement. Bullshit. You are... must be...just did your time? OR...are you with some Velvet Russian mafia or maybe even..." 

"Do I need to aim it at you while you wash?" interrupted Alex. He had kept himself in check long enough for Dean to apparently forget what they were doing here. "I WILL do it, you know." 

"You are one clean freak, aren't you?" Dean hurried to unbutton his crumpled shirt. 

"Comes handy with the business." 

Dean opened his mouth again to voice a theory but Alex made a move to advance on him, and Dean bounced back. He still had his dirty jeans and undershirt on when he shuffled into the shower and closed the door with an expressive bang. 

Alex shoved his holster under the pillow. An extra precaution, but he was not taking any chances with Dean on the loose and a loaded gun anywhere near where he could snatch it. Looked like Dean had drawn in his horns, but there was still a chance he had a screw loose. Alex opened the window a notch to air out the room. The smell of too much fabric conditioner tickled his nose, and he felt too hot, coming down from the high. During the last few years, he'd become an adrenaline junkie, though it'd taken some time for him to admit it. When a job or a lay was not enough of a challenge, it turned into a chore. His anger at the sudden assault had almost subsided, quicker than he expected; while his arousal was a constant reminder, heavy in his gut. Today had given him just the shake-up he needed, Alex mused, taking a gulp of water. 

To his merit, Dean didn't make any effort to dawdle in the bathroom. He was back in no more than 15 minutes, clean and shaved, as if someone had timed him. 

It shouldn't have been possible for a mouth to water and go dry at the same time, but somehow Alex managed when Dean came in. Proportionally built, out of the clothes that gave him a sturdier, bulkier appearance, Dean actually looked to be on the very slim side, with strong limbs and pale healthy skin, smooth chest and small brown nipples. The hair under his bellybutton was a lighter shade than on his head. But what really struck his eye was that Dean reminded Alex of himself, when he was just a know-it-all kid and his wardrobe consisted mostly of secondhand suits. 

"You look better than I thought," Alex was economical with the truth, this time. Alex had seen a good measure of flesh and Dean was prettier than a man ought to be while still looking undoubtedly masculine. 

"I've been told I'm a handsome son of a gun," Dean's gaze stayed focused someplace between the beds and the beams overhead. The rebellious stare had given way to a quieter struggle, a thoughtfulness that Alex recognized with some easing in his own breast. He could think of a dozen hot and dirty things he could do to Dean; it was a pity he had to limit himself. He didn't want to hurt this one any more. Physically, he had the advantage and while making Dean compliant was an enjoyable prospect, manhandling would turn him off. 

Dean's eyes shifted as he looked at the small wall-lamp over the bed. Alex knew what Dean wanted, but he wouldn't be getting it. Alex wanted to keep the light on so he could see how their bodies fit. 

He took a step and placed a hand on Dean's neck, exerting a slight pressure to get Dean to turn towards him. Dean still had his amulet on. His neck was hot and tense, nape damp. It was obvious he was making an effort not to push Alex away. 

"I will amend the deal," said Alex with an insinuating smile. He saw Dean's jaw tense as he shifted fretfully, expecting Alex to demand some kind of kink. The fact he was wearing only a short towel probably didn't do much for his self-confidence. 

"What? Want me to fuck _you_?" He just would not go down without a quip. 

"No. I want you to come when we're doing it." 

"You've just made it a challenge, you know." Looked like his caveat was starting to bother Dean a little. 

"I'll add an incentive." Alex let the other man go, turned to the chair where he left his coat in a heap. He took a fifty from his wallet, put the bill on the shelf. It was symbolic and the way Alex presented it, Dean had to understand. People got off on being horny, powerful or scared. Never on money they were offered. 

"If I'd stolen your wallet from the start, I'd have saved myself so much humiliation," Dean muttered. He looked oddly amused. 

"It was the last bill I had," Alex warned just in case. "Save yourself the regret." 

It did not come as a surprise to see Dean's face change color when Alex took his shirt off. His left arm, near his bicep, was banded with scar tissue. Alex learnt to put up with it as a cosmetic defect. His injury would have been crippling, had the search party not spooked the peasants when they'd already carved out a good chunk of flesh, but got stuck in the muscle tissue. It was a miracle the tendons had not been severed and he had not lost full control of his limb. It taught Alex not to rely on the comforts of strangers in any more. And added the memory of losing his voice for a week from the trauma. 

When Alex stepped into Dean's private space, the latter wore a guarded expression that might have worked if his eyes hadn't given so much away. Dean was afraid. Not a real fear, not a terror or a panic. But a doubt, a disbelief, an anxiety. Dean finally had a look that he was getting down to business with someone who was a big fish with a past. And after Alex had watched him long enough, he saw a spark of interest in those eyes as well. 

"That...looks like a carving knife. Someone wanted to skin you alive?" Dean's face flushed up, he blinked a couple of times slowly, as if it was hard to focus. 

"A _blunt_ carving knife." 

Dean's expression said he wasn't sure if Alex was serious. Alcohol had stripped off some of his hard veneer; his facial expressions were easily readable. 

"I had a chick once, a wild one... She was into scars and self-harm andwhen she told me she wanted..." Dean tried to gesture, apparently being more than a little drunk, but his towel slipped, so he kept both hands on his hips. 

"Let's leave that for pillow-talk, okay?" Alex snapped sharply and put his hand on the hollow, vulnerable place on Dean's belly, right above the white rim of the towel. It slid against tense muscles. 

Alex leaned in, his cheek brushed Dean's. It was smooth and warm like a fresh sheet washed and taken straight from the dryer. 

"So...how do you like it?" He asked, not sure if he really needed to know. 

"Lots of lube." 

Their eyes met. Dean nodded at last like something was breaking inside him, and Alex's fingers spread against his face, holding him still. 

* * *

Alex could not say it was the best lay in his life. But it brought the notion of a business transaction to a different level. 

Events of the day and the whole situation washed down with some whiskey had taken its toll on Dean. From brash and glib he turned into silent and almost passive, as if the lights went out on the inside. Without much ceremony, Alex took the towel off, pushed Dean onto the bed, watched him scoot up, the angle of his knees still trying to cover up his nudity. His eyes, heavy lidded, followed Alex's movements as he removed the rest of his clothes. Dean scanned his body, obviously studying his scars and estimating his build. 

For starters, Dean just _was_ there and it was enough. Alex studied his purchase thoroughly, touching him everywhere. Alex was rarely envious, but he could not help yet be jealous of the body that was mostly unmarked, still had its youthful softness, skin like cream. He even smelt younger, that weird man-scent he thought only came in thousand dollar bottles. Maybe it was the smell of innocence. 

There was a puckered white line that curved around Dean's ribs and down below into his side. Alex felt the other man shrink away at his touch. "What's this one from?" 

"Uh." Dean tried to think; it looked like it was harder than he expected. "Um. A skinwalker." 

Apparently some nonsense again, Alex wanted to pay more attention, but his mind was elsewhere. Alex needed no words, no dirty talk; he was hard from the fight, from the anticipation and from the view. Dean's skin was fair along his hips and ass, at odds with his prickly exterior... Alex could not resist, kissed him on that defiant mouth, first slowly and with caution. Then harder, testing the firmness of his lips, tasting the bitterness of alcohol. He did not expect Dean to kiss back, his lips wind-chapped, breathing air into Alex in hot bursts. Maybe what Dean really wanted was to bite him, but reconsidered just in time. When Alex tried some tongue, Dean turned away and frowned. 

From then on Alex thought maybe he was putting up with this deal as if it were a dream, or as if he was in a trance. 

Whatever Dean was picturing behind the trance-like stare, coupled with the slide of Alex's hands over his skin, had its effect. Matter won over mind. There was a response. First, an almost imperceptible tightening of Dean's legs around him. Dean looped his good arm loosely around Alex's neck and his fingers dug into the shoulder, each flex like a familiar Morse Code transmission. He was hard, not stone-hard, but stiffening. Dean's cock was like its owner: proportional, smooth, a good six and a half inches, Alex licked his palm, had both their cocks in his fist, sticky and warm. "Fuck you," he thought he heard Dean whispering, as he humped his fist, his face flooded with heat. Soon Dean's mouth was working soundlessly against the side of Alex's neck, warm lips and hot, damp breath on his skin. 

At the sudden vindictive dig of Dean's fingers into the scar tissue of his shoulder, Alex bared his teeth, his free hand close to Dean's jugular, and Dean stared back at him, mirroring his wicked grimace. Maybe Dean was trying to provoke him for another bout of mindless violence, maybe it made the trade easier for the young man, but Alex wasn't so easily goaded when he was on top and in control. 

"Doesn't hurt...any more," Alex spoke softly as his hand crept along the hot soft crease of Dean's thigh, curved under his buttock, fingers digging into smooth skin. The freckles he noticed on Dean's face reminded him of another man, one who brought the meaning of hurt to another level for Alex. He'd sworn to himself that there would never be any more blood between him or anyone else, no matter how rough the sex became. And yet he fought an urge to bite the tender skin on Dean's cheek, to crush his chin under his fist. The sheet stuck to the undersides of Dean's knees as he pushed up, using Alex's hand as leverage, their hips rubbing together, and Dean cursed him again, loudly, as Alex cupped his groin, his hand tightened around the head of his cock, stroking just a little too hard. 

"I'm really starting to like you, Dean," Alex murmured loud enough for the other man to hear, then used his teeth under Dean's jawbone to emphasize the point and Dean jerked again pleasingly. Alex always told the truth in bed before he dropped his load. No one believed him, but it fit in well with his twisted sense of humor. 

What Dean breathed out might have been a curse or a blessing or even Latin, but it meant that Dean was surrendering, throat thrust back and legs straining, fingers digging painfully into Alex's side. 

Then Alex was kissing him again, his own mouth wide and hungry. Dean did not dodge him any more, he was good with the tongue, as Alex cupped the back of his head and would not let him go till they were both short of breath. It was intense, doing this in sync, without the burden of words or the sting of blows. Dean stretched out warm and solid underneath him, and there was already something sparking inside, wild and reckless and grieving. It ran through Alex like a live wire, coiling tighter and tighter with each touch of their skin. 

"It's cold," he heard Dean complaining at one point. The covers had long since been thrown onto the floor and Alex had forgotten to shut the window. 

"Shut up," Alex whispered back, and started a new kiss, longer than the others, deeper, piercing through Dean like a spear. Dean's eyes were open, he was looking _at_ him unblinking, pupils dilate with attention and arousal as Alex's hands skated down his chest, leaving skin-deep marks. They both started to sweat, wet lines running over Alex's body and Dean's sides, as if they would melt into the bed. 

Time stretched in Alex's head, but in reality it took no more than fifteen minutes to realize he couldn't hold back. Alex's hands were clever and ruthless as he pulled at the other man face down and where he wanted. The condom smelt like too many weird chemicals; he squeezed the Lavander Mint shit into it to help it glide. 

Dean's sharp, loud cry of pain at his first thrust, drew Alex savagely back to reality. He swallowed at the clean line of spine and exposed back, hard muscle under smooth skin. Next time Alex moved, Dean gave a whimper of frustration. Then he turned, blind, and put a fist through the headboard, his raw sound of pain and abrupt twist of hips throwing Alex off balance, his cock slipping out. Before Dean managed another crippling punch, Alex caught his wrist and held it in place above Dean's head, Dean's hand uncurling against the pillow, knuckles already raw. 

"Are you insane?" Alex hissed, supporting himself on his free hand, the press of his weight almost robbing Dean of motion. It sounded like a rhetorical question. 

"You try to shove a baton up your ass, and I'll see how you shut up." Dean's grimace was pure ache. 

"Believe me, I know how it feels," Alex muttered. He certainly would not add aloud that Dean was not the first guy with a tight ass that he knew how to break with as little damage as possible. 

"Turn around," Alex pulled Dean by the shoulder and shoved him back over onto his belly. "Spread your legs, and keep your hands in front, if you still need them." 

He needed no more proof that Dean was no tramp, but he evidently knew when to stop and save himself from a torn ass. Such knowledge took root in some experience. Dean obeyed, splaying himself on the messed up sheet. Alex stripped his cock twice, he needed a bit of pain to stay up: the power trip was heady, coupled with Dean's response it was over-stimulating. 

Alex was all the way in and he didn't give Dean time to adjust, just pulled back and pushed in again, over and over. Dean made no attempts to resist any more and gradually Alex released his hand, the white knuckle clutch on pillow-corner remained. He moved fast, drawing back out and pistoning in, sharp hips moving, dragging Dean with him on the bed. Dean grunted with each thrust, the sound a physical reaction as his body was jolted and his mouth hung open, stupidly surprised. His hips will be bruised tomorrow as Alex used them as levers. They'll probably hurt more than his ass; Alex would not feel any remorse if they did. He wasn't nearly as rough as he could've been. 

He wasn't just thrusting mindlessly now to get off; he was feeling around like he'd just walked into a dark room, groping for the light switch, and when he found it there would be floodlights instead. Dean's shoulders bunched, then his whole body finally loosened up with just the right amount of pain mixed with pleasure. Alex wished he could see the other man's face. 

"Don't say anything," muttered Alex under his breath when he thought he heard Den gasping something. Maybe it was only blood ringing in his ears. His knees were starting to give up. "None of your quippy banter, sweetheart." 

At that Dean made a sound like a laugh, painful and low in his chest. 

"Something amusing you, Dean?" 

"What could I possibly find funny about this?" the latter answered , muffled but clear, his shoulders bunching as he shoved back with force and moved his hand under his belly. 

When he came, Dean made no sound save a sharp inhalation of breath. The shuddering of his body brought Alex over the edge. He bit the back of Dean's neck, dipped his head and arched up, breath coming in harsh pants and the anchors of his world slipping as his cock emptied itself. 

When they broke apart, Dean turned on his side, there was a wet stain underneath him, fingers milky. Alex stared, aware of his sheepish grin, filled with a mixture of surprise and pride. Now that's what he'd call a collective effort... And just an hour ago this guy had called him a faggot and yelled "that's never going to happen?" 

"We're done then?" Alex snapped out of his musing when Dean asked the question in a voice that held exhaustion and no defiance. Alex nodded, wiping his face with his hand and getting rid of the rubber, Dean rolled to his side, picked up the cover from the floor. With his back to Alex, he shoved his arms under the pillow and buried his face for a moment. Silence hung heavy in the room. Then Dean seemed to give a long sigh, a visible shudder running through his body, and then curled, relaxing and falling asleep almost instantly. 

As if moving through water, Alex turned off the light. He felt lightheaded, in contrast to the pleasant heaviness of his body. Amazingly, he had a deep feeling that what had happened before midnight was just a bizarre dream. He tried to mull it over like he used to during countless nights alone, driving from one point of assignment to another, or behind a camera lens or in a hospital bed. Then his instinct reminded him, whispering as if a through a glass wall, that he should go. Post orgasmic bliss made you tolerate a lot of things you wouldn't otherwise. Alex promised he would just relax for a moment...and then he thought no more... 

to be continued...

  
 

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Title:   **So Why So Sad (Absolutely Perfect), part 5**   
Author:  Griva   [email/website]   
Details:   **Work-In-Progress**  |  **NC-17**  |  **21k**  |  **03/12/08**   
Pairings:  Crossover Pairing  |  Alex Krycek/Dean Winchester   
Category:  Story, Crossover  |  the X Files/ Supernatural   
Summary:  When Alex Krycek met Dean Winchester, it was not luck. He deserved it.   
  
  
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